There's Something in the Water
by Thalaba
Summary: The water's been tampered with and help isn't coming! PWP, crack, angst, smut, multiple pairings. Why bother getting dressed in the morning?
1. Rangiku is a Genius

**A/N:** I own nothing, written for fun not profit. I'd love to hear your crack-y reviews though since when I imagined this story it was completely crack! Since het is all that really gets me going that's all you'll find here, give or take the odd M/F/M threesome I have planned. Throw all ideas of attention to canonical detail out the window cause canon and I have never mixed well, kinda like Cersei and Tyrion Lannister. Yeaaaah…If you could direct me to info about clothes or honorifics I would probably sound like less of an idiot in chapter two. Thanks in advance 

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**Rangiku is a Genius**

Matsumoto was incredibly smart.

Later on, other inhabitants of the _Seireitei_ would dismiss her actions as pure dumb luck rather than exquisite foresight but the golden fukutaicho would always rationalize that her superior intellect was at work when she placed seven different blocking incantations around her quarters after returning home from a night of drunken ranting with her dear friend Shunsui-kun. It didn't matter that said incantations were a little off and turned her walls a sickly shade of brown, killing all her plants while she slept fully clothed ass up, feet on pillows; it didn't mater that the _reason_ said incantations had been cast in the first place was due to decrying that Traitor-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and the fact that that stupidly handsome traitor could probably waltz back into her presence whenever he damned well liked and _she'd_ be damned if she just let the bastard walk into her apartment uninvited; it didn't matter that Kyoraku had thoroughly agreed and then continued to wax poetically about his Nanao-chan with the same breath. What **did** matter was that while the rest of the Gotei 13 unknowingly stumbled (in varying degrees) into Aizen's latest attempt to muddle their senses, the busty blond beauty was locked behind some fairly passable kido spells and sleeping off her self-indulgence with a stomach full of sake…and not a single drop of water.

Of course, Rangiku wanted to cut her own head off once she woke up. But that didn't really matter either.

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Unohana Retsu awoke five minutes after dawn just as she had decided she would for the past three hundred years. What made this day so different from the two hundred and ninety-nine days that preceded it was that the gentle captain of the Fourth Division was actually able to sleep until five minutes after dawn. There were usually a dozen or so perceived and not-so-perceived emergencies that would somehow require the on duty shinigami to rouse their severely put upon taicho from her much desired slumber. Retsu was so surprised to open her soft grey eyes to daylight that she immediately slipped back to sleep for fifteen minutes before that inner voice of the Extreme Healer insisted that time was fleeting and there was a day to be faced. She could not remember a time where she had felt so refreshed.

Since there were no sounds of running footsteps or distraught screams of self-doubt running down her hallway, Unohana was able to quietly comb out the rivers of her ebony locks and then deftly arrange a thick plait down the center of her chest, dressing herself with dignity rather than with rapid precision and a small vein pounding invisible on her temple. A simple breakfast tray awaited her outside her door, three delicate blossoms laid around a plain cooling pot of chamomile and a pale green cup, proving that there was indeed life moving through her building, and that even though three centuries had passed since her last lie-in her subordinates still kept to her prescribed schedule. The thought made Unohana smile and she stepped out onto her patio to greet the sun, drinking her tea steadily.

Once the cup was empty though, tepid herbal water slinking down her insides, something churned and the Captain eyes snapped straight ahead, gaze staring blankly through the landscape and the many structures and those shinigami of the Eleventh and Eighth fucking vigorously by the fountain, her focus entirely centered on her own body and the almost imperceptible changes she suddenly felt overtake her.

"Oh…shit."

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Hinamori's heart was beating like thunder inside her small chest, her lungs expanding like balloons in and out, in and out. Unohana-taicho had cornered her earlier with an intense expression inside Fourth Division; Momo had come for a morning examination but after being questioned about breakfast and _tea_ of all things the master healer sent Momo on a mission of utmost importance: all the water was poisoned.

Well not so much poisoned as unfit for consumption or…well Unohana-taicho had been very distracted while explaining the situation, her usually soft eyes dilated and unfocused, shoving a stack of hastily written notices claiming water contamination or simple orders to drink sake instead, the ink still wet on half of them. Momo was to tack them around the _Seireitei_ as speedily as possible, find Ise-fukutaicho with orders to alert the other captains and vice-captains, then lock herself within her apartment for the remainder of the day. Under no circumstance was Hinamori to engage any officer of any rank outside the safety of her chamber beside Ise-fukutaicho. Unohana-taicho was headed to Twelfth Division herself to seek Kurotsuchi-taicho's help in a scientific antidote and Momo decided to show a mask of understanding in her mission lest her presence be suddenly required inside those torture chambers.

Sticking the flyers on division gates, on doors and frequented areas was not difficult, though it was hard to try and delicately ignore the shameless acts being performed all around those self same places. Several shinigami were pressed tight against the walls of many a building and there was even a couple _fornicating_ near the fountain! Nervous, flushed, embarrassed, Momo had flash stepped through most of her duty before treading carefully into the Eighth. Disregarding the sounds coming from closed and not-so closed doors, Momo knocked as confidently as she could on Ise-fukutaicho's door—which of course was comparable to a mouse scratching in the crawlspace. There was no answer and the sounds around her were increasing and the vulnerable Momo just needed to finish this part of her order, just needed to get back to her own room and wash the sweat off the back of her neck. She opened the door and almost swallowed her tongue.

The image played in front of her mind now as she stared open mouthed at her ceiling, the coloured lanterns she'd arranged that hung down like stars: Nanao with slick tresses laid long over her white shoulders, breasts up thrust and skin shimmering with just-finished-washing shine, slim thighs, buttocks, fingers calloused by too much writing slipping lower and inside…

Hinamori hadn't meant to be untruthful to Unohana-taicho; she had thought the captain was inviting her to a late breakfast and it would have been rude to decline, to admit customarily drinking three cups of peppermint tea with her oatmeal. It had seemed like such a small lie at the time.

She thought she made some noise, gasped at the vision of the lieutenant on that big bed making certain sounds that dashed along her inner wrists and toes, leaving Momo no choice but drop her extra warnings without a word and race away before she decided to obey the voice that said reach out to help.

She couldn't, she wouldn't—Her heart beat so hard and heavy, only exacerbated by the wet muscle pumping between her slit. Unohana-taicho had ordered her to return home after finding Ise-fukutaicho and Momo had obeyed, not stopping for any shinigami who waved or moved or yelled out…But he had been waiting for her and it wasn't in Hinamori to refuse.

_"I-I saw you running, putting up those papers, and I-I didn't want to see you get hurt…Everyone has been acting so strangely and you have been h-hurt too often Hinamori-kun. I-I only wish to give you p-pleasure." _

Her hakama was gone, kosode and kimono pushed up and spread out just like her thin legs, arms weightless across her bed and skin flushed. Breathing didn't get any easier once Izuru lifted himself up between her knees, licking his lips coated with her cum, eyes perpetually sad and solemn but now layered with the look of a hungry man.

"Should we…should we go find Abarai?"


	2. Shunsui's Best Dream Ever

**Shunsui's Best Dream Ever**

Nanao felt sick. A wonderful, bone deep, flesh fevered, muscle clenching sickness—but sick nonetheless. How else could she explain her earlier actions or what she was contemplating at this moment?

The day had begun as normal: she had rose at her usual time already mentally going over the paperwork that would be carried over from yesterday, sipped at her breakfast of lemon tea, then clipped up her hair and gathered her belongings for a bath. The cool water was comforting, and, instead of invigorating, seemed to soothe the no-nonsense fukutaicho, who leisurely stroked a wet cloth over her arms and belly, bringing it up to her nose as a pleasant scent wafted across the water. Not having poured in any oils, Nanao dismissed the thought as psychosomatic to her good mood. She watched droplets fall from her fingertips, listened to the subtle plinking, and found herself drawing one short nail around the nipple of her left breast.

Shaking her head distractedly, Nanao stood up, water sliding down her softness in rivulets as she wondered where the time had gone. She wasn't someone who lingered over her bath, or appearance, or anything really besides her constant piles of paperwork, and an hour had surprisingly gone by while she lounged languidly against the curve of her round tub. Another surprise as she suddenly _shunpoed_ to her bed, unexpectedly wanting to feel something soft underneath her tender flesh even if it was only her sleep-rumpled sheets. Goosebumps blossomed over her shoulders and down her sides as she stretched, reaching up to release her fine inky tresses and smooth them down over her damp arms. Nanao's hands continued down her stomach, down her thighs; there was a warmth crawling up from between her toes and up her calves and Nanao just wanted to reach down and drag it up over her like a rosy blanket.

Rosy?

A hand began to knead her breast and Nanao looked down with a sigh to see it was her own. They weren't the spectacular balloons that Rangiku possessed but as she continued to caress and pinch Nanao abruptly began to muse how they would fit perfectly within the hands of one bearded, brown-haired, sake-loving taicho, how he would completely dominate the bed with his bulk and body heat and…Oh! Fingers slipped inside easily as one hand kept rolling a pebbled reddened nipple; thumb and forefinger sliding her slickness up and around her rapidly aching clit. There had always been dreams and quiet looks and insufferable periods of time waiting for his lazy…ass…to come…to the office—

There was a slam and Nanao shot up in bed, fingers curling hard inside and forcibly sending her over the edge, dropping her back on the pillows as her climax boiled over and a high-pitched keen escaped through clenched teeth. She was back to the bathroom in seconds, hands shaking as she washed them, splashed freezing water on her sweat-dabbed brow and flushed cheeks, licking it off her bitten lips while running a cloth gently between her legs. This was inexcusable! There was work to be done! She shouldn't be—shouldn't be taking _personal_ time at this hour, not when there were forms to be filed and training to oversee and she should really stop touching her chest right now and pick up her glasses instead.

There were beige papers strewn over the threshold of her room—door more than ajar much to Nanao's embarrassment—the ink smudged on several of them with small fingerprints around the edges; but as she read them and let the message sink in, the shock still couldn't dispel the sensations quivering over and inside her body. Dressing as quickly as she could, redoing her hair with some starts and stops as she'd discovered a smooth spot beneath her ear that made her want to curl her toes, Nanao Ise-fukutaicho was running through an oddly quiet Eighth Division knowing she had to find her taicho and alert him to the danger that she herself had stumbled into.

Pacing outside Kyoraku-taicho's door however, Nanao was struck with the possible impropriety of the action she was about to undertake. Her captain enjoyed his sleep; this was a well known fact. He also enjoyed his sake—a vast understatement if ever she had heard one. But unlike their office where both taicho and fukutaicho had seen the other sleeping and the rest of the _seireitei_ where Nanao had to hunt her taicho down, Nanao had never intruded on Kyoraku-taicho's bedroom. Touching the doorframe on her tenth pass the troubled vice-captain was at a loss to explain why this was again.

With a creak from the door and an almost-jump from Nanao, the dark screen slid open to reveal a bleary-eyed gently smiling captain, a black kimono tied loosely around his waist and showing too much broad chest to be decent enough for his vice-captain's current state of mind.

"Arrrrr my Nanao-chan, what are—"

"There's trouble sir."

She pushed one of the water pamphlets up under her taicho's nose and then followed through on the urge to enter his bedroom, only a tinge of a blush crossing her cheeks as far as she could tell. His smell was everywhere and Nanao had to force herself to stand up straight. Yes, yes, it was only a room. "The paper was left in my room sir. It resembles Unohana-taicho's script so I do not doubt it's reliability. She has obviously been trying to alert the Gotei as to the circumstances."

"But Nanao-chan, why would Retsu-san just leave this for you to find? Wouldn't she wanna chat with…Nanao? My Nanaooooooooo-chan! What are doing?"

Nanao slowly opened her eyes, exhaling a deep satisfied breath and lowering the thick pink haori from her nose. The fabric was warm between her fingers and it had only been laid over a sagging wicker chair and OH KAMI! Nanao dropped the haori as if it was on fire, mouth opening in horror before clamping shut hard enough to hear the clack of perfect white teeth, then began a litany of stone faced babble, ignoring Kyoraku's attempts at interruption.

"The problem cannot be poison, I'm sure of it; otherwise I would not be as aware of my body as I am now. I have already consumed water taicho—"

"Nanao!"

"I have also had a very long bath," one prim finger rose to push glasses further up her nose, "and I have not been maimed or scarred."

"Are you sure Nanao-chan? Your beautiful face is flushed." Two worried chocolate orbs looked down into her own near black ones. He had an interesting nose, broken maybe once or twice but after a thousand years those sorts of things hardly seemed to matter. There was a large, useful hand massaging the back of his neck, rubbing over his jaw and soft brown beard, and it would probably look even better on her hip…His mouth was lush, wide, supple…

"Do you care to make sure?"

"…What?"

"That I am not maimed or scarred. Do you care to check for yourself?"

There was no response. Nanao watched as Kyoraku brought his own hand up to tap against his temple then reached down to pinch his hairy wrist.

"Am I still dreaming?"

"Permission to take off my clothes sir?"

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Unohana was silently reciting medical oaths to herself as she watched Kurotsuchi-taicho direct his staff around the Twelfth Division laboratory. It was the politest way to describe the vicious gestures and scathing remarks that the creatively obscene captain was throwing at any member of his division who came within three feet of him or any personnel who didn't appear to be following any and all orders to the letter. She felt terribly awkward, out of place, aroused, and not at all comfortable about those facts, especially given present company.

After leaving Hinamori-fukutaicho, Unohana had attempted a straight line towards the Twelfth. There were limitations to what her own division could accomplish and while they may be few and far between Retsu had known immediately that the best hope for a cure lay within the minds of those scientists who occupied the distinguished position of being a part of the Shinigami Research Institute. Of course it would also help if the 'disease' hadn't infiltrated any of those illustrious minds and so her steps had been expeditious.

Not quick enough, unfortunately, to avoid one hyper vice-captain.

Yachiru Kusajishi-fukutaicho had approached boldly—literally jumping into Unohana's arms, gleefully explaining how she had trounced four members of her division this morning and had plans for the rest after Ken-chan got through with training…and did Braid Lady have any candy because Baldy-chan stole all of hers (which Unohana hoped fervently was not a euphemism and that the young fukutaicho meant each and every word she said literally). It was decided then and there that Unohana couldn't leave Kusajishi-fukutaicho alone despite her strength and speed, that the guilt she would feel if anything happened to the diminutive vice-captain was worse than anything Zaraki-taicho would undoubtedly do…but Unohana really shouldn't be thinking about him either. Not in this condition. So convinced with bribes of confetti candy and the idea that a scientist should surely be able to mass produce whatever her taste buds desired, Yachiru merrily escorted Unohana to the Twelfth and was gassed unconscious by Kurotsuchi-taicho as soon as Kurotsuchi-fukutaicho led both officers into her father's presence. The pink-haired speed demon was currently sleeping in one of Kurotsuchi-taicho's apparently many cells.

It was for the best.

Unohana and Mayuri had spoken briefly before the real work had begun. She had sat calmly and explained in unembarrassed detail the symptoms experienced after consuming even such a small amount of water found in a cup of tea. There was no need to feel any shame, she had no control over the matter as it stood after all, but describing her tingling flesh, the sensitivity of her nipples against her heavy wardrobe, the increasing feminine ache between her thighs, the irregular rhythm of her breathing, and having questions shot back without a doctor's delicacy was not helping said symptoms.

"Kurotsuchi-taicho," she gently repeated an earlier question to the masked captain went it seemed his own had finished, "you are positive you have not ingested any water yourself? No tea? Not even freshly washed fruit?" His sneer was evident even through the grate of his disguised voice.

"Woman! My faculties are in perfect accord. Just because you cannot control your own base functions does not mean that I—"

"Is that why you have been scratching your chest through your uniform for the last fifteen minutes Kurotsuchi-taicho?" Mayuri abruptly stopped scratching; one lone long fingernail trailing down his slightly splattered haori to rest against Ashisogi Jizo. Unohana tilted her head, her gaze sympathetic. "You could have removed your internal organs correct? And saved yourself the debilitating affects. You've performed that operation before I was—"

"I had a shower!"

Unohana had sent Nemu to find help after that.

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Rangiku Matsumoto had awoken to the taste of Death Butterflies building seaweed homes within the crevices of her mouth. Yep, she concluded. That's exactly what it tasted like. Her usual icy blue eyes were dry and not quite focused enough to dependably help her off her futon and into the bathroom. That would explain why the floor came up to meet her so fast and how she ended up crawling to worship before the wooden bucket. Haineko was whining about standards and dignity and how she felt very unappreciated half-hidden under the mattress as it were, and Rangiku may have cared if she hadn't been busy violently regurgitating. She felt as if Yamamoto-san was directing his entire supply of rieatsu into the center of her skull—and it didn't give her the sensation of sunbeams and rainbows that she had always imagined it would. This was torture!

She adjusted her top and scarf with a groan, grabbed an open sake bottle to swish a swig around her mouth to kill the aftertaste of her earlier prayer, pulled her zanpukuto out from the covers and headed to the door. It took ten minutes of pushing to remember she'd used kido to lock herself in and another five to realize she would have to recall each drunkenly made incantation one at a time if she ever hoped to escape her apartment.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh!" Ran sobbed dramatically, pressing her forehead into her colour-changed wall. "Shiro-chan is gonna killllllll meeeeee!" The golden fukutaicho brokenly looked around her front room.

"…What happened to my plants?"


	3. Byakuya's Nightmare

3

**Byakuya's Nightmare**

Nemu Kurotsuchi was perplexed to say the least. Her father had not been entirely forthcoming on the important situation that Unohana-taicho had brought to their attention, his intelligence consisting of "_Do what I tell you!"_ and _"Don't get in my way!"_ She understood his need to retain control of and superiority within the Twelfth—particularly in the presence of another captain—and it wasn't as if verbal abuse was on oddity in her world so that was hardly confusing. Even the idea that the water of the _seireitei_ had been tampered with—most likely by ex-taicho Aizen or some even more evil force yet unknown and waiting to tear open the sky to destroy the Gotei Thirteen—didn't confound poor Nemu as much as the sight currently occupying her vision.

Unohana-taicho had relayed orders from her father to seek assistance from the Eleventh division, a safety precaution in the event that the shinigami required protection from themselves during the time needed to create an antidote for the supposed poison. Of course the dutiful daughter complied—it would be folly to resist any of Mayuri Kurotsuchi's directives—even though Nemu knew her father to consider the Eleventh illiterate amoeba-brained directionless slobs with poor hygiene and poorer taste in authority figures with little hope for advancement beyond having an enemy dishonourably gut their bowels from their bodies.

She had to wonder though—and here was the perplexing part—about Ikkaku-san's state of mind as he lay upon his bed, torso bare above the covers and…_something large_…moving underneath while he ate handfuls of cherry red candies from a large brown box scribed with Kusajishi-fukutaicho's name and various threats. The entire division had been oddly still when she approached. No loud clang of swords or bellowed instructions to indicate the usual hours of training Zaraki-taicho demanded from his officers, no one on duty in the main offices; there was grunting and frequent cursing coming from different sides in closed quarters, but it was not business as usual in the Eleventh. Even the Third seat didn't acknowledge her invasion of his privacy (the door _had_ been open) until after a deep shudder had wracked his densely muscled, smooth frame, a stained sticky right hand gripping the sheets behind him while his left fell to the blankets to latch on to the _something_ suddenly moving rhythmically up and down.

Nemu's head tilted very slightly at the sight, noting the raise and drop in her own and Ikkaku's internal and external body temperatures, evaluating her father's more irritated nature towards the Fourth's captain, all while giving the bald man time to collect himself from his _activities_. Nemu had important news to deliver after all and it would be better if Ikkaku-san was coherent.

The way his gaze slowly enveloped her was unexpected, how his eyes roamed appreciatively over her bare legs, up knees and thighs to her cinched waist—But she looked like this all the time. Obviously Ikkaku-san was experiencing a major malfunction and would probably be of little use to her father.

"Eh!" he tapped whatever was still under the blankets, his half-smile curling up one corner of his generous mouth. "We got us a visitor." Nemu stayed standing on the threshold, surprised to see Ayasegawa-san rise from underneath, face gently flushed and lips swollen. The engineered daughter merely blinked and opened her mouth to deliver Unohana-taicho's request when the feathered man sat up, dislodging the coverings to reveal…Oh. Entirely naked bodies…and smiled at Ikkaku.

"Lovely, isn't she? Flawless complexion."

"Yeh. Likes to watch too."

"Really?" Yumichika appraised the rest of Nemu's form more gently than Ikkaku had but with no less heat, the superhumanly strong vice captain finding her shoulders curving at the unexpected and completely unwarranted attention. The only time anyone stared at her this intently was when her father prepared to administer his harsh brand of discipline. Was that why they looked at her now? Was her father correct then? Were the Eleventh all brutes beneath their strength? And then as if he had read her mind the dark haired man held one long-fingered hand out. "No, no Nemu-kun, don't hide from us. Don't hide your beauty." He leaned forward slightly, whispering conspiratorially as if Ikkaku wasn't present, wasn't sucking slowly on one large red candy. "We like to watch as well you know. We're greedy for the visual stimulation."

She blinked once more, aware of the bewildering tightening in her throat.

"There in something wrong with the water."

Ikkaku clamped one hand over the heavy box's edge, lifting it up with a slant in her direction.

"Want one?"

Yumichika leaned back with an easy grin.

"Maybe two?"

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His morning was a simple one. Awakening from another dreamless sleep to begin his meditation and reflection before taking his time to dress, careful of the odd wrinkle or irregular fold; setting his chamber to rights, bed sheets, sleepwear and the like, prior to greeting Hisana's image and moving to the great hall to break fast with his sister and his Second: Byakuya was in constant control of how his time was spent, hours even set aside for the expected unexpected Captain's meetings. Yes, just like the stick stuck up his ass, Byakuya's life was currently set on an unbendingly straight path and nothing would make him deviate from that.

He sat at his rightful seat as head of the noble Kuchiki Clan by the low polished table set for three, sipping white tea while Rukia entered and took her seat, accepting a bowl of sticky rice and rolling her eyes as Renji jogged in late, hurriedly tying his obi sash and immediately looking for any of last night's leftover taiyaki. There was little conversation beyond reminding Renji of tomorrow's Fukutaicho's meeting—like he had been for the last three weeks—and listening to the sporadic sarcastic banter between the red headed Second and his tiny sister. Merely murmured of course. Screaming over breakfast was an exercise in brutality and only fit for those visitors from the Real World.

Like that Boy. That stupid orange haired Boy whom had allowed Rukia Kuchiki to sleep in the closet of his bedroom. Oh the shame!

There was more tea and fruit and Byakuya was already distributing paperwork to Renji in his head when something suddenly stuck him as wrong. Unsettling. As if the perfect indifference that was Byakuya Kuchiki had been disturbed through factors beyond the Captain's control. And there was _nothing_ beyond Byakuya's control. He placed the tea cup and then his palms down on the table.

"Leave me."

Dishes clattered as Rukia and Renji fell immediately silent, eyebrows hidden in their respective hairlines or bandanas at the rapid spike in their Captain's _reiatsu_…over seemingly absolutely shit all.

"Taicho…?"

Renji's left eye was twitching—something that had been occurring more and more frequently lately and meant the fool had surely committed an act that Byakuya would slaughter him for at a later date—but the Captain kept his gaze passive, voice cool.

"Did I stutter Abrarai-san? Rukia. Renji. Leave me!"

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Matsumoto was exhausted. And hung over. And hungry. And utterly put out because she had had to fend off unwanted advances from three lower shinigami in the time it took to break out of her apartment and slug along in the direction of the Tenth. Only three! She may not be at her best right now but even at her worst men were falling over themselves to be in her presence—Where was every body?! It was enough to give a woman a complex. The golden fukutaicho dragged a whining Haineko as she pouted and groaned her way through Soul Society.

"Taicho is gonna killlllll mmmeeeeee!" Rangiku moaned, eyes half-closed to filter out the bright afternoon sun, spine bent sulkily with her ample assets threatening to simply drop free of her revealing ensemble. Her sash wasn't tied straight—which she wasn't entirely aware of but would have given her something else to believe Toshiro would complain about should she have known—and her forehead was furrowed unattractively, belying the exertion she had put into unweaving her layered crap kido spells and her childish frustration at having no one in the vicinity with which to grumble. Living away from the Tenth Division offices usually offered a surplus of people to meet and shoot the breeze with but for some reason the streets were practically empty—

"Isane-san?"

Rangiku raised an eyebrow, a confused expression crawling down her tired face as she noticed the Fourth's fukutaicho try and sneak into a dim alleyway, the silver-haired lieutenant attempting to plaster herself to the side of the building in an effort not to be seen. Matsumoto was oblivious to this and raised her hand in greeting. "Isane-san!!"

There was a frightened 'Meep!' and the younger woman disappeared from sight.

"Waaahhhhh! Everybody hates me!" Rangiku stomped her foot and turned back to her trudging.

Another slow twenty minute march later, only prolonging the inevitable, the buxom woman finally reached the gates of the Tenth, immediately recognizing the scent of winter in the air.

"Tai…cho…?"

Several windows of Tenth Division were frosted over, a distinctively colder temperature permeating the area around her offices. A sickly green grimace and a hasty retreat later—because while she could have handled a severe scolding she daren't face her Taicho in his current state of temper (she was only several hours late though; why would he be so mad?!)—Matsumoto found herself wandering dejectedly, pout larger than life and afraid to go home for fear of the same power that discoloured her walls affecting her perfect complexion or bountiful hair. Someone was definitely out to kill her; probably that no-account rat bastard that shall not be named…or his traitor friends. She shook her head brusquely, regretting it immediately as her skull began to thrum. Oh kami, paranoia was going to wreck her just as much as the bottle.

"Hello hello?" she called out weakly, unsettled by lack of activity so late in the day but still wrapped up enough in her own earlier trials to not jump to fighting readiness at the peculiar quiet. Well there were the usual grunts around the Eleventh and laughter in the Eighth but not nearly as much as expected. _Not even here_, Ran mused while somehow passing the Kuchiki estate—my, she'd walked far today. It was known that Byakuya-taicho and Renji-san would often train on the lower grounds of the noble's estate during lulls in office hours and all that was present now was…a huge mass of pulsing _reiatsu_?

Matsumoto forced herself to greater awareness, holding Haineko in a more responsible grip as she surveyed the Kuchiki grounds, endeavouring to discern the current danger—if any. It was without a doubt Byakuya-taicho's energy forcing itself outwards but at what precisely Matsumoto didn't know. There were no battle shouts, no Hollow residue or Menos activity to speak of—

"Kuchiki-taicho! Kuchiki-taicho, it's Matsumoto-fukutaicho!" The Captain's _reiatsu_ seemed to flutter as she called out his name, allowing Ran to enter through the estate gates and then seeming to let her pass the grounds entirely. She narrowed her eyes at the oddity but kept going, a sly smile winding its way over her lips. If this had something to do with Rukia-chan (and thus Renji-san by association) then Rangiku wanted to be present to see the backlash.

There were no servants to greet her at the doors, no valets to point the way, so she simply followed Byakuya's energy signature into the dining hall. Where he was sitting calmly. Alone. Without any visible danger. Ran almost dropped her Zanpakuto. "Tai…cho? Are…are you alright Kuchiki-san?"

"Perfectly fine Matsumoto-san. Would you care for some fruit?"

Blinking in slight confusion, Ran raised a hand to scratch at her temple, to comb through her long golden locks, and then shrugged indelicately. Food was food.

"I could eat. Oooo mangoes!"

She sat down with a giggle and began to eat with gusto—Byakuya-san had a much nicer lunch spread than Toshiro ever had, even if the fruit was warm. There were berries and coconut slices and cold rice. She licked her lips, enjoying the sweet juice that rolled over her tongue.

"Are you taking a holiday Kuchiki-san?" Ran laughed, the idea that she of all people would catch Byakuya shirking work hilarious, but then another pout blossomed. "Everyone is hiding today. Isane-kun ran away from me and Shiro-chan is mad at meand I don't know why all—"

"Matsumoto-san," Byakuya's firm tones cut Ran off mid-rant. "What form of energy is circling in Soul Society today?"

"Energy?" she spoke around a ripe strawberry, full lips ghosting over the red fruit before biting clean through. Ran put down the rest and stood again, a niggling feeling raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Come to think of it, when had Byakuya-san _ever_ invited _her_ to sit and eat at his table? "Ne, yours is the only excessive energy I've felt all day." She'd leave out the part of locking herself inside her apartment and actually missing most of the day itself. She rounded the corner of the table to stand near the still sitting captain.

"I am the first you have seen. Today?"

Had he been drinking too much sake as well? What a crazy question!

"Besides Isane-kun yes, but like I said—Whoa!"

Things happened quickly in those few seconds. Byakuya had shoved aside his tea and snatched a firm hand on Rangiku's waist, pulling her down to sit on the table in front of him; his free hand tossed away her stole and roughly pulled open her shirt, the luscious globes of her pink-tipped breasts simply slipping free. Big blue eyes filled her entire face. "Kuch-Kuchi—Byakuya-san!"

"My sincerest apologies Matsumoto-san," the noble captain spoke in an eerily calm manner, the only sign of stress being a surprising glow of perspiration upon his forehead as he stared directly at her bare chest. "I hope to make this up to you at a later date."

"No-Ah! Ah!" Rangiku sighed, leaning back as the Sixth captain dragged one elegant hand across her throat and over her collarbone, ending with a soft flick over one pebbling nipple. "No, this is good. That's good."


	4. Rukia's Dirty Mouth

**Rukia's Dirty Mouth**

"What did you say to Nii-sama, baka?!"

"What?"

"Nii-sama! He looked ready to rip your head off, you idiotic halfwit! I haven't seen him so angry in ages; if he has any idea what is going on I will never—Hey!"

Renji stopped himself mid-thrust, looking down at the savagely disgruntled Thirteenth officer, sister and heir to his own overbearing taicho, and secretly waited for his sanity to break at his supreme (yet necessary) stupidity in momentarily halting the exquisite agony between cock and crotch. Damn it, he did **not** want to be talking about Kuchiki-san while fucking Rukia against the wall of the side parlour!

…Probably not the most intelligent place to be consorting but it couldn't be helped now.

"Eh! Rukia! Can ya stop talkin' for five damn minutes and _concentrate_!" There followed a slow tilt of his tattooed torso, tumescence sliding purposely deep into her wet warmth, then grinned at the growl he was able to elicit from her tight-lipped mouth. If Byakuya knew anything about their history as lovers—and given how long it had been going on undetected underneath the steely taicho's very nose there was no reason why he should know—it was because Renji's Chappy-obsessed lover didn't know when to shut up when her _beloved _Nii-sama was in hearing range. The red haired _shinigami_ grunted and shifted Rukia's slight weight higher, pulling her legs tighter over the edges of his hips, rewarded with the bite of her short nails digging in to the back of his neck. No, Renji—contrary to popular belief—enjoyed living immensely and preferred not to have his head lopped off at the moment. Definitely not at **this** particular moment.

"Now! Harder!"

"Onna!" he hissed, withdrawing with that same punishing slowness, adjusting to brush against her sensitive nub once he pushed back. It was a wonder they hadn't been spotted by one of the Kuchiki servants; though they agreed their relationship need be kept a secret, she had been the one to fiercely tear down his hakama almost as soon as they had left the dining hall, Byakuya's dismissal still ringing in his ears. Had they been ensconced in the bath house or alone in the fields—where they usually rendezvoused—the vice captain would never have silenced her demands. Listening to her stern voice order, cajole and then finally beg for him to fuck her balls deep, strum her clit, suck her neck _right there_, was the most potent aphrodisiac Renji had ever known. Oh Kami she was tight; the redhead hissed into the crook of the slight woman's even slighter neck as he once again slid home.

"Hai," she murmured on the heels of a groan, and Renji jerked convulsively as sharp little teeth sunk into the flesh of his earlobe.

"Ru…Rukia!"

Hips tapped hips, though it was undeniably more of an incessant grind enforced by the fukutaicho to gain a moment of intimacy in their rush-around world. One last pelvic tilt had Rukia squealing into Renji's chest, a high-pitched keen while her release washed over her, muscles milking him for all he was worth, the soft swish of the parlour door muted by her cry and the blood pumping within Renji's head.

"A…Abarai-san?"

"Huh? KirAHH!" Renji yelped as Rukia's head sprung up, clocking him hard in the jaw while her eyes popped out to stare at the nervous fukutaicho inching ever closer behind them. "Rukia—"

"Kira-san! What are you—"

"You nearly broke my teeth!"

"Doing?! You can't—"

"Kami that hurt, ya stupid onna!"

"Be here now! Get—STUPID?!"

Lucky that his head wasn't twisted off his body by the force of his lover's smack, Renji blinked hard, recovering enough to acknowledge Izuru's hand moving up between his shoulder blades as well as Rukia's surprised eyes while the Third Division's Lieutenant innocently slipped his other appendage down Rukia's bare leg, still hooked over Renji's hip.

"Renji? What—"

"Welllllll we _were_ in the Academy together."

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Shunsui was at a loss for words—and for a captain who lived to wax poetic that was a tragedy indeed. His poor Nanao-chan was acting entirely out of character, the dear, beautiful, inspiring fukutaicho spending her first moments in his quarters _sniffing_ his haori of all things instead of lecturing him on the mess of sake bottles or his horrendous treatment of various books strewn around the floor. The wavy-haired captain put a hand over his big brown eyes and gave a ragged sigh. Sweet Kami, it was just as if he'd been given a piece of heaven…a drunken, partly drugged, oddly disturbing yet highly erotic piece of heaven.

Disturbing? Why yes. When the woman you've vocally pined over for centuries suddenly wakes you up and asks permission to take off her clothes, well one wonders when the ceiling will cave in or if one's zanpakuto will decide to make it's final release in one's face.

But once that worry is over one's answer must be a resounding yes.

"Kyoraku-san?"

Shunsui dropped his hand and slowly turned his head to stare in slightly pained wonderment yet undoubted adoration at his beloved lieutenant, her perfect form lying wrapped in his own sheets, his haori around her shoulders and bunched within her delicate hands like perfumed sachets—how she'd hate to hear him describe any part of her as delicate! Powerful, of course, what fukutaicho wasn't? but for Shunsui he saw the woman underneath the stern looks, serious demeanour, and scathing remarks, had been stripped of words, of breath, once she began to drop her _shihakusho_ and her pale smoothness had been revealed. Those perfect, delectable nipples! He was not a saint and Kyoraku had looked, had stood silent and worshipped with grateful eyes at the altar that was Nanao Ise. For a minute. Or six.

"There must be others experiencing this abnormality."

Oh yes, this was definitely not normal.

They had been on his bed for a few hours now, Shunsui trying desperately to ignore the fact that she had quietly masturbated—**twice**—mere inches away from him, as well as the throbbing monster between his legs that was thankfully concealed by a hastily grabbed kimono; from the various sounds leaking into his chamber the captain would say for certain that there were many others in a state similar to Nanao…though lucky them, they had actually found some relief from their symptoms. But now that he thought about it a furrow began to appear between his thick eyebrows. Jushiro would have ingested some water at this point surely; the Thirteenth captain was an early riser—well, earlier than him anyway—and Shiro wouldn't be drinking sake this early. Shunsui could imagine little Kiyone-kun bringing her captain a cup of tea, unaware of its true contents. What if there was an adverse reaction?

He would have to make sure his best friend was alright…but he couldn't leave Nanao all alone and vulnerable.

"Har, Nanao-chan. We should check on Jushiro."

"No taicho. Unless you wish to engage in sexual conduct with your oldest confidante?"

Kyoraku's eyes bugged out.

"Whaaaaaaa?!"

Nanao's eyes became thin slits behind her lethal glasses.

"You refuse me taicho—" Shunsui winced at her tone. "—and because of your superior strength I must comply. However, while I do not doubt your prowess, I must think that Ukitake-taicho—if he were so inclined—would be harder to subdue from his intentions." Shunsui groaned and pouted, scratching his chin. Of course she was right. When was his lieutenant never fully informed?...besides today. But it wasn't as if he didn't want to have his fingerprints all over her body, didn't want to feel her warm and wet and wanting. But Shunsui wanted Nanao alone, not a chemically engineered construction of her lust.

"You make me sound very foolish my Nanao-chan," the captain put his meaty hands under his head, his timbre naturally easy-going though his words meaningful. "I would never dare to refuse _you_ anything."

"…I know taicho."

"I would travel to the Real World and bring you back chocolate tomorrow if I could."

"I know taicho."

"I would find you the sweetest blossoms from all corners of the Rukongai and decorate your room personally."

"I know—"

"I would convince Bya-san to finally let your Women's Association—"

"That's enough taicho!"

Back to silence. Nanao lifted a pink corner of his haori and pressed it flat against her nose, her free hand slowly but surely making it's way down her chest.

"If you could just put your mouth down on—"

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Hinamori bit softly into the flesh of her lower lip. Dragging her teeth, flicking her tongue: the Fifth Division fukutaicho panted softly at the sensation, reminding herself of the attentions Izuru had so carefully paid to her lower lips earlier. They had not been able to stop touching each other as they set out to locate Abarai-san, Momo constantly reaching for Kira's hand while the fair-haired man would stop them both every few steps to adjust her uniform, his beautiful fingers dipping below her collar to caress the skin of her throat, his eyes still heated, still hungry.

She had been by the Tenth gates earlier to post Unohana-taicho's message, though now something inside her small form cried out to set eyes on Shiro-chan, his perfect chin and bright frosty eyes. Kira seemed to understand and kissed her mouth for the first time, squeezing her shoulder and looking down as he continued on to the Sixth.

Hinamori approached her childhood friend's Division offices unhurriedly, teeth still moving over lips, fingers brushing in nonsensical circles over her opposite palm; she swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for what she would say. Had he been affected as she and Izuru? Or was he still the near-perfect image of stern captaincy that Soul Society knew so well. Would…would he turn her away? Shun her—No! No, it was much more logical to think that Toshiro had received Unohana-taicho's warning and had immediately tried to find the Fourth Division captain to organize those officers untainted by the poison…for lack of a better word. Hinamori was having trouble thinking of herself as _poisoned_; her body felt so alive, and what Izuru had done with his long fingers…

Timidly knocking, Momo slid the door open before waiting for a response.

"Hitsugaya-kun?" the fukutaicho leaned in, teeth still kneading lower lip. "Shiro-chan are you—"

But of course he was still there, sitting at his desk as usual, the piles of unfilled paperwork around him speaking for Matsumoto-fukutaicho's carelessness. But as his spiky white head popped up, teal eyes wide and wild, Hinamori could see there was nothing _usual_ about him.

"Momo?!" the short captain stood up violently, his chair scraping loudly on the floor then falling back. "What are doing? You should not be here!"


	5. Momo Never Guessed

**Momo Never Guessed**

Nemu sat in her usual perfectly stiff manner on the edge of Madarame-san's bed, the scent of sweat and seminal fluid heavy in her advanced olfaction makeup but the used and rumpled sheets were rather interesting under her bare buttocks—comfortable, if she were allowed to use such a meagre word to describe the pressure and friction of apparently pleasing cloth on genetically enhanced flesh. Her head fell slowly to the left, nodding forward and back gently with the tug and pull of the soft-padded brush Ayasegawa-san was running through her raven-slick black hair while regarding Ikkaku lounging easily—naked—on the floor, one of her deceptively delicate feet being massaged between his two calloused hands. She did not quite understand why he had vocally expressed a wish to perform this activity or why Yumichika was making contented sounds on the bed simply from combing her hair, but the bald-headed Third seat was looking up at Nemu with a similar expression her father wore while examining his newest invention or latest discovery. Though her rather staid stare remained unchanged, the scientist's daughter was surprised to feel the skin of her face rise in temperature, as if her body actually enjoyed Ikkaku's appearance of possessiveness.

They had stripped her gently, respectfully—well Yumichika did, unwrapping her cinched sash slowly, tsking reproachfully as her secret vials of poison were revealed but complimenting and caressing the fabric of her short kimono, the smooth and sturdy perfection of her engineered body. Ikkaku had watched from his spot on the bed, lounging in a post-coital glow while suggesting in his gruff way how Nemu's arms could be best raised and displayed to his visual advantage. She could have easily walked away; her message had been delivered, mission completed, and duty truly demanded she return to the Twelfth Division laboratories and await further orders. But those male eyes held her still.

Possessive.

Wanted.

Nemu's fingers curled over the edge of the candy box that covered her bare woman parts and felt her shoulders begin the inevitable curl inward. Emotions were uncomfortable, strange intangible things that did not meet any logical criterion—

"Ah ah ah!" There was a slow tug on her hair as Yumichika scolded, pulling enough as to arch her back, forcing her breasts out, leaning down to whisper in her ear as Ikkaku's hands began travelling up her calves. "No hiding, Nemu-kun. What's the point when it's obvious you have us wrapped around your finger?" A tender press of lips descended on her throat and then a warm lick which had Nemu's mouth silently falling open. Tingling. The hasty instinctual expectation of shivers. There was a chuckle from the floor as Ayasegawa-san purred. Another lick and taste of tight flesh.

"I'd like ta be wrapped around _her_ Yumi."

"Would you allow that Nemu-kun? Would you let that beautiful bald bastard swathe your luscious body with his own?" Her legs were being spread apart and Nemu inhaled a long slow breath which she found odd since she was not lacking oxygen or the proper internal elements to function.

"You are both feeling the ill effects of the chemical agents that have been administered to the _seireitei_ water system. Kurotsuchi-taicho and Unohana-taicho will repair any parts of your composition that have been compromised." Ikkaku grumbled.

"There's only one cure for what I have," he lifted the candy box off her lap and dropped it on the floor, Yachiru's red candies scattering.

"You mean you wish to engage in sexual intercourse?"

"Repeatedly."

She could feel the Third's ragged breath on her thighs, lips moving up and ever closer to what she could only see as his goal. Nemu turned her head as much as Yumi's grip would allow, searching his gaze from the corner of her own as colourful feathered eyebrows wagged.

"And you?"

"Oh Nemu…" There was a shifting of bed sheets, and to the officer's delight—and the fukutaicho's abrupt shock—Nemu gasped as the Fifth Seat's erect penis pressed solidly up the small of her back. "I've already stated how I like to watch."

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"Hinamori-fukutaicho, you must leave immediately!"

Momo flinched as Toshiro rose from behind his desk like one of Shiba-san's rockets, papers rising into the air at his speed, his tone and address utterly foreign from what was customary since awakening from her healing coma. She suddenly expected the diminutive captain to rush over and physically deposit her outside his Tenth Division offices, but while Momo swore she could see that very thought filter through his oh so cold eyes Hitsugaya did nothing; he remained stiff-necked and white-knuckled…_reiatsu_ flaring in short spurts?

"S-Shiro-chan?" Momo stepped fully into the room, sliding the door closed quietly despite her old friend's wild eyes and indistinguishable bark of protest, and clasped her hands to her small chest. "Are you sick? Did you see my poster? Well it wasn't mine it was Unohana-taicho's—"

"Hinamori!" Momo jumped as Toshiro viciously cut her off, his level voice as harsh as his _zanpakuto_. "Of course I saw the edict but it was useless at that point! I had already—" the captain's spiky white head jerked to the side as he hissed. "Please Hinamori. Go!"

"You had already had something to drink," Momo hedged forward, large eyes blinking like a deer, "hadn't you?" She silently begged Hitsugaya to turn to her, to look at her, to speak at all! But he was almost a statue, a fine trembling running along his jaw. She wanted to lick it, to follow that tremble over the point of his chin, down his throat and across his dignified shoulders and just…just keep licking. Like Kira-kun down between her thighs. Oh Kami, Momo knew her face was red and she had to swallow hard to repeat her question. "Hadn't you Shiro-chan?"

"I had already washed and received breakfast from the kitchens." She nodded quickly.

"Me too! I had already had my morning tea. And I love tea…a lot." His reply was like a slap he was so angry and Momo almost shrank away from the cold energy suddenly surging through the room, but at this point she would have withstood anything to be in his presence.

"Moron! Why haven't you barricaded yourself away?! Why are you wandering the streets with this _poison_ inside you when half the Divisions are exactly the same?!"

"It's probably more than that now—"

"What!"

"Nothing, nothing," Momo raised her hands, taking the last few steps towards his desk. It was a big desk between two small fighters. Why did he have to have such a big desk? "But I don't think it's a poison. And anyway, I wasn't in danger, the streets are empty Shiro-chan!" She would have also added that she was a fully trained Vice Captain with a beautifully functioning zanpakuto and excellent kido abilities…but thought better of it. "And I wasn't alone, Izuru helped meEEP!" A sound like the crack of a whip echoed Toshiro's flash steps around the desk and Momo found herself face-to-face with a very irate Captain, one arm tight around her waist leaning her over so her knees buckled and head fell back, the other hand holding Hyorinmaru with a determined air. The white spikes of her long-time friend's hair flaring in barely suppressed . . .what? Anger? Why hold her so closely if that were so?

"Kira-fukutaicho!" Hitsugaya thundered, a frigid blast hitting Momo square in the face but her cheeks had already heated, fingers softly curling into the pristine fabric of the Captain's haori, holding on for dear life. That fresh scent covering raw power and undiscovered _reiatsu_: all Hinamori could think of was summer days and watermelons and how protected she felt in his arms. Perhaps she should have been frightened by his hard stare but it was his hard manhood pressing her hip through their hakama's that had her chest rising and falling in anticipation. His icy stare took notice—head dropped, hand leaving the hilt of his zanpakuto to slide slowly up over Momo's ribs much to her gasped delight—but it didn't stop Hitsugaya's tirade. "Did you search him out Hinamori? Did you go to Kira-san to ease your ache?" Her nipple was pinched and Momo jerked in his iron grip.

"Hit. . .Hitsu—"

"Did he touch you like this Hinamori? Did he—"

"Lower," Hinamori moaned as one breast was firmly kneaded, the strength of her knees now utterly useless. "Izuru-kun touched me . . .lower."

His bright eyes met her dark wibbly ones. "Please T-Toshiro," Momo bit her lip and raised a hand to caress his surprised jaw. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Please. . .put your mouth lower." Hitsugaya's mouth found Momo's in a rush, desperate grip leaving her chest to grasp her head, pulling her face into his fiercely, teeth scratching, nipping.

"Hinamori. . .Uhh Momo. . ."

The office door slid open with a bang and three bodies crashed to the floor, startling Momo but simply causing Hitsugaya to flare his _reiatsu_ and then roll his eyes as it wasn't Aizen coming to steal his beloved out from under—well out of his arms.

"Hitsugaya-taicho!" Rukia-san grunted underneath the weight of Kira-fukutaicho, her chin crushed into the hard angle of Abarai-fukutaicho's shoulder blade. "Let me up, let me up!!"

"You were not saying that five minutes ago," Kira-san murmured, pale cheeks turning rosy though it was Renji's bark of laughter that made Rukia lash out.

"Oi! Stupid Onna! I—OW!"

"R-R-Rukia-san!" Hinamori pushed free of Hitsugaya' loosened grip, one hand still holding tightly to his green sash. "Why. . .what are you doing here?" The diminutive member of the Thirteenth stomped on Renji's neck before standing to her full height and straightening her black sleeves.

"Kira-san came—"

"Twice! OW! Stop—"

"I pretended to have that second one—"

"Looking for Renji, and while we were momentarily distracted we quickly realized—"

"We realized," said redhead jumped up off the floor with a huge grin, "that we could have more fun with you two than by ourselves!"

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Retsu was nearing the end of her rope. Between attempting to console, suggest possible ministrations, and evade (without further injuring) Twelfth Division members unlucky enough to have in some form ingested water, Captain Unohana's calm was close to shattering. It truly had not helped matters that Kurotsuchi-fukutaicho had yet to return after Retsu had requested she locate help in the Eleventh as there were only two probable reasons for Nemu to stay away so long—neither of which the Fourth Captain wished to analyze in any specific detail since one would mean much more work for her Division and two would have her thinking of too much bare skin.

Kurotsuchi-taicho was also a quandary in himself, given the fact that his skin had been completely exposed to the 'poison' and was extremely sensitive to heat and touch. Unohana had indulged him once already by caressing his expanded grappling arm (gingerly and with concealed distaste) but she had no intention of asking the scientist to ease her own discomfort. Even after he removed that face mask and hat of his to reveal a mop of thick blue hair and fascinating yellow eyes. Even after the sweat forming across her collar bone and shoulders trailed down to pool between her swollen breasts and the small of her back respectively.

So far the Research and Development Institute had found nothing useful to counteract the damages of the tainted water supply except for what pleasure could be found between their legs. Those that had legs.

She had sent several Hell Butterflies to the Fourth in hopes that a waterless compound of sorts could be found in stock or created from materials at hand to sooth those afflicted (in case her demands for Matsumoto-fukutaicho to send vibrators were ignored) but her own Vice Captain had disappeared by all accounts and Unohana could only assume that Rangiku was being thoroughly entertained at the moment.

"Unohana-taicho?"

Oh Kami, she was going to be ill. . .

"I have found the cure we are both seeking. Follow me."

Unohana tilted her head and gave Mayuri the friendliest smile she could muster.

"I thank you Kurotsuchi-taicho for your skill and hospitality but unfortunately, as I have yet to hear from my officers, I fear I am needed in my Division. I know your scientists will continue to do their utmost to protect the Gotei and that your cure will be mass produced as quickly as possible. Goodbye."

There was no way Retsu was following Mayuri into a back room after she had just watched him shed his outer haori when she knew for a fact that several of those rooms contained operating tables and chains.

It was simply out of the question.

Rapid sure steps found Retsu back to the Fourth Division gates quickly, passing several Gotei members in the all-together, the officers she had first seen copulating near the fountain having risen in number since the morning and even her Third had fallen victim to the water's debilitating effects. She side-stepped them all and—against her usual caretaker judgement—decided to find refuge once again within he walls of her own rooms. It had been a miserable day of failure and the usually positive woman needed to be surrounded by the comfortable and familiar before she really yelled at someone—which would be _unthinkable!_

Unohana knew something wasn't right the moment her door closed.

A wonderfully masked _reiatsu_ came to life behind her and a huge hand enveloped her shoulder. There was a distinctive tinkling of bells and a deep gravel voice.

"Retsu. . ."


	6. Retsu's Dark Desires

**Retsu's Dark Desires**

As far as strange drunken holidays went this had to be the best day ever!

He had taken her twice on the table—twice for him, _several_ times for her—before resting a moment (which was a series of slow deep breaths, Kami he didn't even fall on top of her!) and dragging her to the floor. Hakama: gone! Sash and badge: gone! Rangiku's black shirt remained caught around her shoulders but the bubbly blond didn't think that hurt her appearance at all, in fact she felt gorgeous! More so than usual even! Those confidant, arrogant, aristocratic fingers played inside her like a harp, like he knew every string to pluck. And for a man who'd only been married once—with no other sexual escapades to report as far as she knew (and Matsumoto **would** know)—he was amazing!

Byakuya-san hadn't said much after his first and last apology (for what Ran didn't know…but yeah she could admit this hadn't been planned in any way) but that was fine. His body did the talkin' and wow, what a dictionary! But she had to admit—in the moments between thrusts against his deliciously abused clit—that it _was_ very strange Rukia or Renji hadn't felt their Captain's _reiatsu_ surge and pulse the way it had. . .er. . .was. . .or at least try and find out what was wrong with the unbelievably dark and intriguing taicho. Matsumoto's forehead scrunched almost painfully in thought, her full lips pursing forward.

"Welllll, it wouldn't be good if his sister was in _my_ place," she mused, raising a hand and twirling a lock of golden hair around her finger. "Even Kurotsuchi-taicho would have to think there was something icky icky about **that**! And then Renji-kun would be soooooo sad that Rukia-san wasn't bein' faithful to him that he'd pro'ly go challenge the Arrancar himself—"

"Matsumoto-san!"

It was a harsh reprimand that Rangiku only registered when Byakuya-san stopped his luscious strumming of her body, looking up into that aristocratic face with large unblinking eyes.

"Kuchiki-taiiiiiiiichoooooo—" Her beginning wail was cut off by a haughty glare and a quick repositioning of bodies which left the noble all but sitting on her tits.

"Matsumoto-fukutaicho," the dark-haired man continued in his arrogant monotone, wet fingers slipping underneath her neck. "I thank you for the revelation of the _uragirimono_ that is my Lieutenant, he will be dealt with in time. But this is a situation where the spoken word. . .is not needed." Ran was allowed no rebuttal as her mouth was then taken up with the task of deep throating Byakuya's impressive cock.

Kotetsu-fukutaicho was frightened out of her ever-lovin' mind. What had happened to the _Seireitei_? Had everyone gone insane?! Not only had she been _obscenely_ propositioned by members of her own Division, it seemed like anyone she'd had the unfortunate circumstance to run in to who wasn't currently fucking like rabbits was trying to talk her into some act or another, or skipping the talking altogether and simply going straight to the jumping! Had Kyoraku-taicho's attitude infected everyone?!

And it wasn't like Isane's day had started off all that great to begin with, what with that horrifying dream of attacking orange balloons and waltzing candles. She'd woken up with the scent of wax and latex in her nose and nearly thrown up. After her morning meditations she had left in search of her office and found. . . unnatural goings on. Her Taicho was not present, there was a distinct lack of new paperwork to fill out, and the hallways were absent of the persistent fluttering of butterfly wings. They were full of nervous Fourth Division officers however, none of whom could say where Unohana-taicho may be, and this was possibly the most unnatural thing of all. Everyone in the Fourth Division always knew where their Captain was; she was extremely dependable and—and as Unohana-taicho's Lieutenant, Isane **should** know where the hell her Captain was located!

And then the carpet jokes had started—much to everyone else's amusement, including Itegumo—and Kotetsu-fukutaicho decided quickly that it was time to get out of dodge before her _zanpakuto_ was influenced further.

Her escape had begun easily enough, simply walking through the halls to the exit of the Fourth wasn't a trial—though glimpsing a patient of the Eleventh receiving a blow job from one of her own _shinigami_ was particularly disturbing and would no doubt be responsible for several nightmares to come. Equally unsettling were the embracing naked foursome pressed up against the gates, but at least they had been thoroughly occupied with each other to ignore her passing completely. The same couldn't be said about the group gathered by the fountain: a dozen or so officers, male and female, from various Divisions, thrusting and licking and sucking and naked bits _everywhere_! Two called out to her while another attempted to untangle himself from the limbs and clasp her wrist at the same time.

Isane had been on the run ever since.

This was madness! What was she supposed to do?! She had spotted Unohana-taicho's _reiatsu_ signature but what help was that when there were masochistic officers begging with her to "heal" them?! And she was starving! After her dream Isane had continued to fast and now there was just no time to safely navigate the kitchens and mess halls in search of food because all those blasted fornicators were staying where energy was easily re-established! Terror had spiked upon being spotted by Matsumoto in a practically deserted area of town. Just the thought of smothering between those gigantic assets while Rangiku was under the thrall of whatever had infected the rest of the _Seireitei_ was enough to have the fukutaicho squeaking in fright and racing for the nearest empty dojo. Isane would hide herself away until this whole situation sorted itself out. . .or so she thought until she heard the door on the opposite side of the circular structure slide shut. She jumped like a spring top and turned around to face her friend Hisagi Shuhei, who had a similar expression of concern pasted across his tattooed face. Their voices rang out at the same time.

"Stay on your own side!"

He had unwrapped her obi as if he had had generous previous experience, the rough hand coming around her waist, under her arm, to tug effortlessly at the silk. His presence was a solid wall of heat and roaring energy behind her, held in check by what Unohana could not fathom as her own was slipping away with each purposeful drag of a knuckle along the underside of her aching breasts. The silence between them was deafening, like thunder building in a darkening cloud; the humidity was already there, her flesh was glistening with unmet needs and she had not been able to move since his first word, afraid of what indignity she might reveal by simply throwing herself at the warrior and expressing centuries of repressed desires—It was to much. Her slow breathing ended in a pant, her heart thudding near death-knells in her chest while her sash fell to the floor.

She didn't protest when the Eleventh Taicho brought both his hands up and fisted her _haori_ off her shoulders in one luxurious pull. He crowded her, took up so much room in her private quarters that Retsu had to swallow back a moan at the thought of how much room he would need between her thighs.

"Za. . .Zaraki-taicho?"

"Damaru," he rumbled, placing his hand beneath her braid to press solidly upon her covered breast bone, forcing Unohana back against his chest where he—if she was not mistaken—began to take in her scent. The subtle jingle of his bells aroused within her such a fever; her eyes dropped with her resistance and Unohana leaned her head upon his solid strength, his responding growl of approval having the Healer imagining it unleashed on her person. "I'll have you Retsu."

"I know," she replied softy. And with a great breath took a step forward, slowly pivoting to finally face her suitor and stare up into his sharp features. "You will take yourself to my bed and prepare. I have a message to send and then. . .I shall take you before you shall have me. Kenpachi."

The other Captain's answering grin was a feral slash of white teeth.

"As you wish."

Hanataro Yamada was very surprised by his Taicho's message, the butterfly flitting away as soon as it had been delivered into his sleepy hands. He had woken early enough to stumble to the kitchens and prepare Captain Unohana's breakfast but after returning to his rooms to fetch some papers had gracelessly fallen on his mats and resumed slumber. Ooooooo he was going to be in trouble! He rubbed his drooping gaze though at the elegant characters and the demand they conveyed.

"What would Yachiru-san be doing at the Research Institute?"


End file.
